Chapter 19
The following morning brought little peace.
Eleanor tried to lose herself in ordinary tasks, but every room in Ravenscourt seemed determined to remind her of the conversation she and Gabriel had almost finished.
She could still feel the warmth of his hand around hers, still hear the certainty in his voice when he had told her he would have chosen her.
The interruption had left everything suspended between them once again, and the uncertainty of it lingered wherever she went.
Worse still, she had begun to question the certainty that had driven her to such misery only a day before. If Gabriel had spoken the truth, and every instinct now told her that he had, then she had misunderstood everything.
Everything except Cassandra. That uncertainty remained.
She could no longer bear wondering whether she had imagined the closeness between them or whether there was some history she still did not understand. If she wanted the truth, she would have to ask for it, and so rather than hiding she decided it was time to know everything.
Mrs. Ellis directed her to the stillroom, explaining that Cassandra had spent most of the morning preparing William’s medicines. The stillroom occupied a quiet corner of the house overlooking the herb garden.
Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, crowded with carefully labelled jars of dried lavender, willow bark, and dozens of other herbs Eleanor could not immediately name.
The air carried the scents of mint, beeswax, and crushed rosemary, while bundles of freshly gathered herbs hung drying from the ceiling beams.
Cassandra stood at the long oak table in the centre of the room, measuring powdered bark into a small glass bottle. She looked up as Eleanor entered.
Eleanor hesitated in the doorway.
“I hope I am not interrupting,” she said quietly.
“Not at all,” Cassandra replied as she set the bottle aside and smiled politely. “William is resting, and the next draught need not be prepared for another hour.”
Eleanor stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“There is something I wished to ask you.”
“I suspected there might be. I assume this is about Gabriel?”
Eleanor let out a small, embarrassed breath. “Is it so obvious?”
“Only because you have looked as though you wished to ask me something for the past few days.”
Eleanor clasped her hands together.
“I fear what I am about to say will sound foolish.”
“I would rather hear a foolish question than watch you continue making yourself unhappy.”
The kindness in Cassandra’s voice only made Eleanor feel worse.
“I owe you an apology.”
Cassandra looked genuinely surprised. “Me?”
“I have not thought very generously of you. I believed—”
She stopped, searching for words that sounded less absurd now than they had only yesterday.
“I believed you and Gabriel…”
“You believed Gabriel was in love with me.”
Eleanor nodded. “I heard part of your conversation.”
“I know,” She sighed softly. “Gabriel told me what happened. I was afraid you might have misunderstood.”
“I did. I heard so little, and yet I somehow convinced myself I had heard enough.”
Cassandra walked around the table and leaned lightly against its edge.
“I have known Gabriel for many years.”
“I know.”
“I also watched what became of him after you left.”
Eleanor slowly lifted her eyes. Cassandra’s expression had grown thoughtful.
“I do not think he would thank me for saying this, but I believe you deserve the truth. When you disappeared, everyone expected him to recover in time. They said he was young, that disappointment fades, and that another lady would eventually catch his attention.”
A sadness entered her smile.
“They were all mistaken,” she continued.
“I watched him throw himself into responsibility because it was easier than admitting how badly he had been hurt. The estate demanded constant attention, and there was always another duty waiting for him. He accepted every burden that came his way because it gave him something else to think about, but it never replaced you.”
Eleanor felt her throat tighten. Cassandra looked toward the window for a moment before continuing.
“He stopped taking long rides. He abandoned half the sketches he used to make of the estate because he said there was no time for them anymore.
Every conversation became about William, or Ravenscourt, or someone else’s troubles.
It was as though he decided there was no room left in his life for anything that existed solely because it made him happy.
I tried to help him, but only because I could not bear to watch someone I cared for carry that much sorrow alone. I never hoped he would love me.”
Eleanor swallowed. “I thought…”
“I know what you thought.” Cassandra smiled with genuine amusement for the first time. “You imagined me as your rival.”
“I did.”
Eleanor could not help returning the smile. Cassandra laughed softly.
“I have never wished to marry Gabriel. My place has always been here, with William. He is also the kindest man I have ever known. His health has always been uncertain, but I have been content simply to remain where I might be of some use to him.”
Eleanor felt ashamed of herself. “I judged you very unfairly.”
“We all do that from time to time. Gabriel looks at me with affection because I am his friend. He looks at you as though he has finally found something he believed he had lost forever.”
Those words settled quietly over Eleanor, filling her with equal measures of hope and regret. Cassandra had never stood between herself and Gabriel. The only thing that ever had was the silence they had allowed to grow between them.
Neither woman spoke for several moments. The silence no longer felt strained, but it was not entirely comfortable, either. Too much had been said for either of them to return easily to polite conversation, and too much remained unsaid for the awkwardness to disappear altogether.
It was Eleanor who broke the silence.
“I owe you more than an apology.”
Cassandra looked at her curiously. “You owe me nothing.”
“I do. I allowed my own fears to become certainty. I saw kindness between you and Gabriel and convinced myself it could only mean one thing. I judged you without ever giving you the opportunity to explain yourself.”
Cassandra smiled. “I cannot pretend I was entirely innocent. I was not especially welcoming when you arrived.”
“You had every reason to be cautious.”
“I certainly thought I did. When Gabriel brought you home, I had already watched him spend years trying to put himself back together. Then, quite suddenly, the woman who had broken his heart was under the same roof as us. I wanted to protect him.”
“I know.”
“You may not like it, but I believed you would hurt him again.”
The admission stung, because Eleanor could not honestly say Cassandra had been wrong to think it.
“I understand why you believed that.”
“I was unfair. I judged you by what happened years ago without asking whether there had been more to the story.”
“There was.”
“I know that now.”
Eleanor laughed softly, feeling foolish for everything that had happened.
“I suppose we have both been rather guilty of imagining the worst.”
“I believe we have. I must confess, however, I was rather surprised. I had no idea you thought Gabriel and I were conducting some tragic romance beneath everyone else’s nose.”
In spite of herself, Eleanor laughed.
“When you put it that way, it sounds absurd.”
“It was a little absurd.”
“I know.”
The warmth of shared amusement eased the last of the tension between them, but then Eleanor’s laughter faded.
“I should not have been jealous.”
“I think you had every reason to be. I could have made your arrival easier for you, and I could have made it clearer that I am devoted to my husband and him alone. What matters is that we have discussed it now.”
Eleanor considered that for a moment before nodding quietly.
“We have, and I should like us to begin again, if we can.”
Cassandra hesitated.
“I would rather move forward knowing what we know now,” she said gently. “We have known one another for years, Eleanor. I do not want to act as though we have not.”
Eleanor thought that was the perfect outcome. Her jealousy had been unfounded after all, and though she felt a good deal of embarrassment because of it she was also pleased to have her friend back.
Before either woman could say more, however, hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor. The stillroom door opened, and one of the maids appeared, visibly flustered.
“Miss Ashcroft, forgive me, but Sir William has taken another turn.”
Cassandra’s smile disappeared immediately. “I am coming.”
She was already reaching for the tray of prepared medicines. At the door she paused and looked back at Eleanor.
“We shall finish this conversation another time.”
“I would like that.”
“So would I.”
Then she was gone, leaving the stillroom suddenly quiet once more. Eleanor remained where she was for another minute before making her way downstairs.
The drawing room was unusually lively despite the tension hanging over the house. The dowager sat near the fire with Beatrice, both women bent over a collection of letters and notes spread across a small table between them. They looked up as Eleanor entered.
“There you are,” Beatrice said. “Come and rescue us.”
“From what?”
“The impossible,” the dowager replied as she removed her spectacles. “We have been attempting to understand how Julian always manages to remain one step ahead of us.”
Eleanor crossed the room and accepted the seat Beatrice offered. It dampened the warm feeling that was growing in her chest from her conversation with Cassandra, but this was the most important matter in her life and had to be handled.
“Has something happened?”
“Nothing new,” the dowager replied as she tapped one of the folded letters. “Which is precisely the difficulty. Every move we make seems to reach Julian before it ought. It cannot simply be guesswork. He knew about the settlement, and that Gabriel intended to challenge his claims.”